What is Slash, Anyway?
by Someone Who Isn't Me
Summary: One morning, Harry wakes up with some rather strange urges... But it seems like everyone else has it much worse than him. Are these the effects of a love potion, the Imperious Curse, or something far worse? Slash. Kinda funny but not a comedy.
1. Chapter 1

On a couch in the Gryffindor common room of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry Potter opened his eyes. He yawned, wiped his glasses, and wished he had actually gone to bed the previous night. Maybe a comfortable pillow would have spared him from those awful dreams. Harry paused for a moment, trying to remember, but the details escaped him. Malfoy was in the dream, he was sure of that. But the silver-haired boy hadn't been teasing or cursing him as usual. They had been… Ugh, they hadn't! Even the thought of kissing Malfoy made Harry sick to his stomach, so why had he dreamed about doing it with such passion? If someone had slipped him a love potion, they would have to pay.

But there was no time to think of revenge. Shaking his head to clear out the Wrackspurts, Harry began to gather his things and get ready for class. Maybe if he hurried he could catch the last five minutes of Potions and avoid a detention from Slughorn. He was still distracted and kept dropping his wand every time Draco's face appeared in his mind. This meant that the poor wand was flying at the ground every few seconds. By the fourth or fifth time, it began giving off angry red sparks. "Sorry, wand," muttered Harry, and started down the hall. A few steps later, he dropped the wand one last time, and stooped to pick it up. This time, it sent out gold sparks, and started spinning in a circle on Harry's hand. It was the compass spell, but he hadn't said a word to guide it. Harry forgot all thoughts of getting to class on time, and set off in the direction his wand pointed. Surely, it must be something important. Maybe it was Voldemort! Maybe someone was in trouble and needed him to save them!

But, of course, it was only Malfoy. The other boy walked forward in a daze, his eyes glazed and mouth slightly open. The resemblance to a zombie would have been perfect if he stretched out his arms. Harry stopped in his tracks, startled. Feelings welled up inside him, feelings that were _most certainly_ not his own. He wanted to kiss those lips, run his fingers through that silky blond hair. But at the same time, another part of him wanted to throw up and run away, in no particular order. Harry stood still, shaking a bit with the effort of resisting the love potion's effects. Or maybe it wasn't a love potion. Maybe someone was trying to control him. He had always been good at fighting the Imperious Curse…

Just when Harry thought he would be forever paralyzed by indecision, Malfoy decided for him. He moaned low in his throat and took a step forward, falling into Harry's arms. Before Harry knew it, Malfoy's lips were pressing against his own. Malfoy's tongue was crawling up his neck in a really nasty way. Then Draco began to hump Harry's leg like a puppy, and Harry went somewhere inside his head.

He was not sure how long it lasted. It could have been a minute, and could have been a thousand years. Eventually, the first lesson ended and students flooded through the hall, forcing Harry and Draco to break apart. Harry looked himself over and realized that his cloak was torn and he was missing his shirt. Before anyone could see the pair or ask questions, Harry scurried away and hid in a broom closet while Draco ran the other way.

Harry was extremely embarrassed, and didn't know what to think of the incident. Luckily, he was good at memory charms. Harry quickly succeeded in putting the whole thing out of his mind.

A few minutes later, he climbed out of the broom closet, wrapping his cloak tightly around him to hide the lack of a shirt. He couldn't quite remember why he wasn't wearing it, or what he was doing in the closet in the first place. He checked the clock in the Great Hall and realized it was time for Charms class. Harry started toward the classroom with a smile on his face.

He was nearly there when he heard a batlike flapping behind him. Harry's heart sank as he slowly turned to face the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Snape. Snape was scowling as usual, and looked to be in an especially bad mood. "Potter, you have detention today," he said in a self-satisfied tone.

"Why, professor?" Harry asked innocently, thought he thought he knew the reason. Bits of his memory were beginning to break though, something about skipping a class…

"Slughorn told me you were not in Potions today," replied the ugly old git. "If I was still your potions professor, the punishment would be much… harsher. Yet as things are, you must report to my office. Immediately."

Snape strode off toward the dungeons, black cloak billowing. Harry followed, but he felt especially uneasy today. Snape was acting in the usual way, but there was something different about him. Despite what he said, the professor must have devised an especially bad punishment. Was Harry imagining the hint of a smirk on that ugly hook-nosed face?

The pair descended farther and farther into the dungeons. They passed Snape's office and came to a level that Harry didn't even know existed. Harry finally spoke up. "Uh, Professor…?"

"Quiet, you sexy man-child!", snapped Snape.

Harry was completely dumbfounded, and more than a little afraid. He started running back up the stairs, but only made it up three steps before clawed fingers grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back down. Harry's wand dropped to the stone floor with a clatter, and he was helpless against Snape. The man loomed over him, looking more like a bat than ever. Suddenly, Harry's memory of the morning returned completely. Regaining his wits for a second, he croaked "Wow. Why does everyone want to be gay with me today?" And then Snape got ahold of him.

Again, Harry wasn't sure exactly what they did. It was like he wasn't himself anymore, but somehow… out of character. Gone was that noble Gryffindor spirit; gone was the Boy Who Lived. He was a soulless, crazy sex machine, controlled like a puppet by unseen hands.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Disclaimer/Author's note: I'm kinda new at this, and should have put this disclaimer in the first chapter. But what's done is done, so here you go. I don't own Harry Potter; J.K. Rowling does. Yes, I know I'm abusing her characters, but everyone does it these days. And it's _fun_ . Anyway, this is my first fanfiction and a bit of a crackfic. I don't take this very seriously and I don't think you should either. There will be more chapters after this. I may update really fast or take a long time. Enjoy the story!

* * *

When the fog cleared, Harry found himself at the top of the staircase that led to the dungeons. Another boy his age was leaning against a wall, watching him. After a few seconds, Harry recognized him as the young Tom Riddle. "What are _you _doing here?" Harry asked bitterly. He couldn't be surprised by anything anymore.

Tom crossed his arms and replied, "Oh, I went forward in time and got pardoned for my future sins. The usual."

Harry said "And let me guess… You now have some sort of obsession with me. In a really disgusting way."

"Yes, in fact. How did you…" Tom suddenly stopped talking, because Harry had Stunned him. He had the urge to do far worse, after all he had been through that day, but held back. He stepped over Riddle's body and headed in the direction of Dumbledore's office. Maybe the headmaster would know what the hell was going on here. Maybe he would be able to stop this insanity once and for all. Or maybe he would pull a Snape and get all romantic. You never know…

With that thought in mind, Harry crossed the main floor and went up the first staircase of the seven that led to Dumbledore's office. He stalked forward with his wand out in front of hum, ignoring the stares from other students. Harry felt dazed, dirty, and more than a little mad.

With each flight of stairs, things only got weirder. On the first floor landing, Harry saw Ron making out with the latest in a parade of girlfriends. Wait a second; was that _Ginny_ wrapped around him? There was no mistaking the fiery red hair. Harry looked away and hurried up the stairs without disturbing the happy couple.

On the second floor, a Veela threw herself over a balcony. She hit the floor below with a sickening crack, and was quickly followed by twenty-some drooling boys. Harry felt no urge to join them, so he climbed another flight.

The third-floor hallway contained Professor McGonagall in the middle of lecturing a student. The girl in question had shockingly green eyes and neon purple hair. She fidgeted and bit her perfect bottom lip as McGonagall ranted; "… And you are a complete disgrace to the Sue family! I should have you expelled."

At this the girl smiled like she knew something the professor didn't. "Oh, I get it. I'm not _really_ in trouble."

McGonagall's face turned red. "Oh yes you are, Mary. Do you think you can just walk into this school and do nothing but have adventures all day?"

The girl said, "But you can't _really_ expel me from Hogwarts. Then my story would be over. So there's nothing you can do, because I am Mary Sue!"

McGonagall sighed. "We have talked about this little delusion before. Mary, you're not a character in some sort of story. And even if you were, you're not the main character. The real star of the show is Harry Potter over there."

The professor pointed to Harry, and the girl's eyes shifted to glare at him. "I'll just be going now…" Harry began, but it was too late.

The girl started running after him, supernaturally fast, and once again Harry found himself being chased up a flight of stairs. This time, he got to the fourth floor before being stopped. But it wasn't the crazy girl who had him in her clutches. It was a Very Stupid Idea.

The general idea of the idea was that he had been running from an awful number of things lately. He was Harry Potter, the Chosen One. What was he doing, fleeing in fear from a little girl?

Just as Harry turned and raised his wand to curse the girl into next Tuesday, she beat him to it. Within seconds, he was lying on the floor in a Full-Body Bind, with Mary Sue's unblemished face looming over him. She grinned in triumph, revealing a pair of gleaming fangs. Ugh, not a vampire too, thought Harry, as the girl kneeled down in front of him.

While the girl was distracted, Professor McGonagall crept up behind her. Harry said nothing; partly to avoid alerting the girl, and partly because his mouth was frozen shut.

Professor McGonagall was making strange motions with her wand and muttering a very long spell. Whatever it was, it didn't seem to be working. Harry felt Mary's lips right below his ear and wished McGonagall could just get on with it…

And then Mary Sue crumbled to dust. Harry yelped and jumped back, discovering that he could move again. "Professor!" he gasped. "Did you just _kill_ her?"

McGonagall sighed. "She was never alive in the first place."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Those filthy things aren't witches and wizards like you and I. They're not even human at all. I'm usually not one to hold such views, but…" she trailed off, unsure of what to say to the boy.

Harry still didn't understand. "Are you talking about vampires, Professor?"

"No, it's too hard to explain. Just trust me when I say that Mary Sue will not be missed. Now run along, I think Dumbledore is expecting you." With that, she conjured up a dustpan and began to remove Mary's remains from the rug.

Harry knew he should care about the senseless murder of a student, but he wasn't feeling at all like himself. He shrugged and continued up those endless stairs.

The fourth and fifth floors were blessedly empty. The sixth contained a figure in a red hooded robe, but it jumped into a doorway when Harry passed. His scar tingled a bit, but didn't actually hurt like it did when Death Eaters were around. Harry couldn't seem to find the usual righteousness and curiosity that would have led him in pursuit of the figure, so he walked on without stopping. He took the last set of stairs at a run, and was slightly out of breath when he finally got to the gargoyle in front of the headmaster's office.

Realizing he couldn't remember the password, Harry tried knocking on the gargoyle's head. It grumbled in annoyance but refused to open. Harry said "Chocolate" and "Lemon Drop" and the names of a dozen other sweets, but it still wouldn't budge. Finally, in desperation, he tried his own name. To his surprise, the gargoyle moved aside and the door slid open.

The office was darker than usual, and little silver instruments whirred quietly on their tables. At first, Harry thought the room was empty, but he stepped farther in and was greeted by a very strange sight. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, as usual, but Fawkes the phoenix had his beak down the headmaster's pants.

"Er, Dumbledore? Do you need a moment?" Harry said, beginning to back out of the room.

"Ah, Harry!" Dumbledore exclaimed, shooing Fawkes back to his perch. "So good to see you."

"Nice to see you too, Professor. Do you mind if I ask what Fawkes was doing in your pants?"

"Certainly not!" said the old wizard. "He was just exploring. It really is a fascinating world down there, full of ancient history. Do you want to see?"

"Er, no thanks," said Harry. He wondered if Dumbledore was finally going senile, but decided to keep his thoughts to himself. Instead, he said, "Actually, there was something I've been meaning to ask you."

Dumbledore sat back in his chair and looked at Harry with his penetrating blue gaze. It felt like the headmaster was looking right though him and tickling his insides in some sensitive places. Harry shook off the feeling and looked at Fawkes instead. The phoenix was sitting on its perch, avoiding eye contact. Harry looked at Dumbledore again and began to tell his story.

"Well, you see, Professor, everyone's been acting really weird lately. Not in the usual witch-and-wizard way, but in a "Let's all be in love with Harry" way. Do you get my drift?"

Dumbledore just nodded, giving Harry the courage to continue.

"And I've had this feeling today. It's like someone has been trying to control me, but not with a love potion or the Imperious Curse. It's as if…" Harry couldn't find the right words, so Dumbledore finished his sentence.

"As if someone was writing your story? As if the management in charge of your life had suddenly changed hands?"

"Yes, exactly!" said Harry, relieved that he wasn't imagining the insanity that seemed to be gripping everyone today. "Do you know how to make things go back to normal?"

Dumbledore didn't nod, but he didn't shake his head either. He tried to do both at the same time, and the resulting motion looked like a bobble-head doll. Then his neck stiffened and his eyes stared straight ahead. The headmaster began talking in an oddly flat voice, as if he was in one of Professor Trelawney's fake trances. "Ayyy Youuuu… The answers lie in Ayyy Yoouuu!"

Harry wasn't impressed. The act was cheesy, melodramatic, and even more cryptic than usual. Why couldn't the headmaster just give him a straight answer for once? "Where is this Ay You?" he asked.

"Look in the book," was the reply. Dumbledore un-stiffened a little, then picked up a pen and wrote something on a slip of parchment. He slid it across the table to Harry, beginning to recover from whatever had happened to him.

Harry picked up the parchment and took a look. It was Dumbledore's signature, in an old spidery script, and what looked like the title of a book underneath. It seemed to be… a pass to the restricted section of the library! Harry had wanted one of these for years. Now he could look up creative hexes and disgusting potions and rule-breaking manuals… and fix whatever was going wrong with the world. "Thanks, Professor!" he yelled, making his way to the door.

"Wait!" called Dumbledore. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a look inside my pants?" But Harry was already out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The Character's Guide to Fanfiction. The Character's Guide to Fanfiction. The Character's guide to... Harry repeated the title of the book inside his head. No, he was not an idiot. He had to remember the title because the parchment it was written on didn't exist anymore. It had suddenly caught fire in a third-floor hallway as Harry was making his way to the library.

One second, Harry was holding an innocent little scrap of parchment, and the next, it was a flaming mess burning itself out on the rug. The only reasonable explanation that he could think of was that this was Dumbledore's revenge. After all, Harry had disappointed the poor man by refusing to look inside his pants.

Anyway, he had to remember the title. That, and find a way to get into the Restricted Section without Dumbledore's note. It would be impossible to do if he followed the rules, but Harry Potter could bend them however he pleased.

Harry made what he hoped was a fearless rule-breaking face and walked through the library door. As he came in, a first-year ran out, screaming his head off. No one paid him any attention.

As he came up to the Restricted Section, Harry braced himself for a fight. Madame Pince was sitting behind her little desk as usual, reading a book called "Teaching for Idiots". Harry raised his wand, ready to strike her blind and deaf, but he was too late.

Madame Pince looked up and caught Harry in her laser-beam gaze. "Potter," she said in a pompous voice.

_Ugh, _thought Harry. _Even worse than McGonagall. _

The librarian continued. "And how do you plan to ravish my books today?"

Harry made himself into the embodiment of an innocent knowledge-seeker. "I don't, Professor. I'm just going to do some light reading..."

Madame Pince snorted. "Liar. But if you honestly don't plan to harm my books, why not ravish _me_?" She flung her arms out like a Muggle religious figure. Harry wondered if he had heard her right, and decided to back away slowly just in case he had. It was a good decision, because Madame Pince chose that mnoment to shuck her cloak and tear off the shirt under it.

Oh, the horror! Harry shut his eyes at once, but he had already been blinded by the sight of a pair of horribly saggy breasts. They were pale, and wrinkled, and reached nearly down to the librarian's waist. The nipples were dark and awful. They seemed to bore deep into Harry's soul.

He started running blindly, bumping into bookshelves and students. He could see a few vague shadows, but the image of the breasts was superimposed over everything.

Madame Pince pursued him, screeching like a harpy. Harry ducked behind a shelf at the edge of the Restricted Section, panting. He stayed as still as possible, hoping that he would escape the madwoman's notice.

Harry had no such luck. He heard Madame Pince's heavy breathing getting closer, closer... Of course, no one stopped her. Harry had already accepted that the world had gone nuts, but he had yet to actually do something about it.

He squeezed his eyes shug as the topless librarian approached, and grabbed a book from the shelf at random. He chucked it, hard, and heard it sink into one of those hideous boobs. Madame Pince let out a beastly howl, then went quiet.

Several seonds passed before Harry dared to look. He blinked a few times, and his vision cleared slightly. There was no trace of Madame Pince _or _her "assets". She hadn't turned into dust or anything, just disapeared. Harry sighed in relief. _That was way too close..._

He looked down at the book he had thrown. It would have been a wonderful plot twist if it was the "Character's Guide to Fanfiction", but the tattered volume was just a first-edition copy of the Necronomicon. As Harry put it back on its shelf, he noticed that it seemed to be bound in human skin. He was just about to start looking for _his_ book when he heard a hoarse whisper behind him.

"No... give that to me. I can't... touch... the shelves..." He turned around in surprise. It was the same cloaked figure from the stairs. He stared at it in bewilderment until it pulled down the hood and revealed itself to be... Hermione?

"No offense, but you don't look so good today." She didn't smell very good either. A sort of musty odor hung around her, like dead mice in an attic.

Hermione chuckled dryly, sounding completely unlike herself. "How can I look good when I've peered beyond the veil of my existence? How can someone keep living after they've broken the fourth wall?"

Harry raised his wand (which he had completely forgotten to use against the mad librarian a moment before). "Don't come any closer. I've seen one too many weirdos today. And what the hell is this "fourth wall"?"

Hermione muttered to herself, looking at the ceiling. "What the hell is the fourth wall, he asks... Why don't you tell him? Why don't you open his eyes?"

Harry didn't bother asking who she was talking to. He grabbed the Necronomicon and pressed it into her hand. "There you go. Now get out of here. I have to find the Character's Guide to Fanfiction before the world explodes!"

Hermione's creepy smile almost reached her ears. "That's the other thing I was reading." She reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out a slim white volume. Sure enough, the cover proclaimed it to be the book Harry was looking for.

Harry grabbed it and didn't stop running until he had reached Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Luckily, the ghost didn't seem to be there. Harry locked himself into a stall and sat down on the toilet. He opened the book to the first page and prepared to read.

* * *

Thanks for reading :) Review if you liked it or thought it was funny or considered it to be a complete abomination. What do you think should happen to Harry when he reads the book?


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The book's first page declared that it was "The Character's Guide to Fanfiction". The title was written in printed letters, not script, and the ink looked remarkably fresh. Harry flipped through several "blank" pages, disturbed to find huge penises carefully shaded in pencil across each page. The phalluses were colored, actually colored in flesh-like tones. There were all sorts: Light-skinned, dark, long, short ,flaccid, erect, circumcised, in the middle of an orgasm… Every possibility of penis-dom was explored within these pages. Harry thought he saw a perfect likeness of Malfoy's member, and Ron's with its red pubic hair, and Hermione's tiny vestigial organ, and even his own enormous package.

By the time Harry had flipped through (and admired) all the pages full of genitalia, the book was down to a single penis-less page. He flipped it over, fingers trembling. He felt a strange mixture of relief and disappointment at seeing actual words on the last page. For whatever reason, he wouldn't have minded seeing another penis instead.

Even though the words were tiny, they practically jumped off the page.

_Hello, Harry_, the book began.

_Who are you?_ Harry wrote in a conveniently-placed space under the first line. Nothing happened. Then he thought to read the text beneath the space.

_I'm not Tom Riddle's diary, you know. _

The words didn't just appear like they would have in the aforementioned diary. The text had been there all along, but Harry had somehow managed not to see it. "Weird," he whispered to himself. And then he gasped, throwing a hand over his mouth like a girl, because he had seen the next line.

_I know you're thinking this is weird. _

It _was_ weird, and things were only getting weirder by the second.

_Yes, they certainly are. _

Harry tried to make his mind go blank, but he had never been good at Occlumency. He was sure that the book somehow knew what he was thinking, and he desperately wanted to close it and throw it in the Lake or down a toilet or something. But for the sake of Hogwarts itself, he read on.

_Enough,_ said the next line. _I'm tired of this game. This book is an interesting plot device, but it needs to serve its purpose. _

"And what might that be?" Harry said aloud, rather sarcastically. After a dramatic pause, he looked back at the book and kept reading.

_To tell you that you're not real. _

"What are you _talking_ about, you stupid pile of dicks?" He must be as mad as Hermione, to be talking to a book out loud in a bathroom.

_You are the main character in a work of fiction. Fan-fiction, to be exact. A British Muggle woman invented the first sixteen years of your life, and I have taken custody of the rest. _

Harry wondered what kind of sick joke was being played on him. _Yeah, right, _he thought, not bothering to speak out loud. _Did Fred and George put you up to this?_

Unsurprisingly, the book read his mind again. The next line of text jumped out at him, actually getting larger and larger until it caught Harry's eye.

_You can believe that, if you want. But your lack of faith disturbs me. Sorry readers, couldn't resist making that reference. _

This book was becoming totally incomprehensible! Unless he'd gone completely, Hermione-style crazy –which was a possibility, of course – Harry knew he was the only one reading the book. He tried to look at the line under the one he had just read, which was the very last one in the whole book, but it remained impossibly blurry and unreadable.

"Ugh," he growled, and slammed the thing shut. As if to spite him, it flew open again and flipped to the last page all by itself. Harry had just enough time to notice that all the penises were gone. Instead, they had been replaced by spread-open vaginas.

The last page of the book said:

_Hello, Harry. _

_I'm not Tom Riddle's diary, you know. _

_I know you're thinking this is weird. _

_Yes, they certainly are. _

_Enough. I'm tired of this game. This book is an interesting plot device, but it needs to serve its purpose. _

_To tell you that you're not real. _

_You are the main character in a work of fiction. Fan-fiction, to be exact. A British Muggle woman invented the first sixteen years of your life, and I have taken custody of the rest. _

_You can believe that, if you want. But your lack of faith disturbs me. Sorry readers, couldn't resist making that reference._

And finally, on the very last line…

_Look behind you. _

Harry dropped the book and whirled around, bumping into the back of the toilet and looking like a total idiot. But clumsiness wasn't exactly his primary concern at the moment, because Voldemort was behind him.

* * *

I decided to write some more of this, but I honestly have no clue where it's going. Review if you liked it! (or if you thought it was a total abomination)


End file.
